


The Danceless Sun

by Kasakobu



Category: Choices: High School Story: Class Act (Visual Novel)
Genre: Fluff, Homecoming Dance, M/M, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28640922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasakobu/pseuds/Kasakobu
Summary: Medus caught the exact moment Ajay started babbling. About the rules, their position, the same words he heard a thousand times, over and over again,god, Ajay, come up with different sentence structures for a change.An extended version of what could have been in the original premium scene of them dancing if it hadmuchmore fluff and mutual pining.
Relationships: Ajay Bhandari/Main Character (High School Story: Class Act)
Kudos: 5





	The Danceless Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be the first to say this: there wasn't enough attraction between Ajay and a Main Character in the first book, so I decided to create it myself.
> 
> I also tried Ajay as a main focal character for the most part.

He turned at the strange, clicking noises almost by pure instinct and managed to bite a hysterical giggle away as he saw Medus loudly dancing with his heels on the parquet. He accompanied the clicks of his heels with the rapid slapping of his fingers and clapping, forcefully shaking hips from side to side, his unbuttoned white jacket swaying against his back and thighs to the beat.  
  
Click click click. Clap clap. “Watch out!” he whispered urgently with an unnecessary high note at the end, eyes half-closed, beelining to the restroom. Click slap click. “You done wound me up tratata”, CLAP, and he turned exaggeratedly on his heels, raising his imaginary hat of a cool guy slightly. “Uh”.  
  
Ajay could swear this “uh” was supposed to be in the song, but the “uh” Medus pronounced was of pure, untarnished horror as he stayed glued in this extremely uncomfortable position, eyes widening and cheeks reddening as he finally, _finally_ noticed Ajay in the same corridor, observing him.  
  
Ajay approached him with deliberately slow steps, feeling his cheek suffering from a nervous tick, no less, as he tried so hard to suppress a giggle, to keep his serious appearance. Perhaps, Medus decided to imitate a statue, staring at the spot where Ajay stood a couple of seconds ago; unblinking, his heels turned to the side of the restroom, while his torso was stuck in the awkward half-turned position. Ajay fixed the glasses on his nose before touching Medus’ wrists and gently guiding them from his actor’s ‘hat’ to his sides; he hesitantly put one palm on the small of Medus’ back, the other on the lower part of his abdomen, and agonizingly, slowly, delicately turned him whole the other way around. His palms lingered one second too long, feeling that Medus’ chest had stopped rising and falling. That he had stopped breathing. Ajay took a step closer, too close, and his breath washed over Medus’ neck, his voice rising in hushed concern.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
Medus straightened his back unnaturally and all but sprinted towards the restroom, not giving his director even a single look back. Ajay stood there, motionless, his hands forming an incomplete circle where Medus’ body used to be, his vision filled with the image of goosebumps on Medus’ neck. Suddenly, he shuddered violently, putting his hands in his pockets, almost restraining them there, exhaling a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. He didn’t know how long he was standing there and why he even came to the school in the first place, either. Ajay didn’t plan on attending homecoming, he didn’t plan on encountering him of all people, he didn’t plan on his freaking suppressed crush to show up, he didn’t plan on ruining his perfect friendship with his Prince, that is, his actor playing Abraham, but here he is. A wave of deep self-hatred washed over him from head to toe, he gulped almost tasting the bitter salt of his contempt. “It’s happening all over again,” he muttered under his breath.  
  
“What is?”  
  
Ajay almost jumped to the ceiling as his voice thundered in the empty corridor. Medus kept a safe, healthy distance of three feet apart, which was, admittedly, abnormal for him, a guy who loved hugging his friends almost as much as theatre itself. He washed his redness away in the bathroom, though, and flashed Ajay his favourite toothy smile that magically put everything in order in Ajay’s head and erased all of the stressful little details in the world. He visibly relaxed as Medus narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Why aren’t you dressed up?”  
  
A hint of disappointment slipped through his cheerful demeanour, and Ajay somehow only now noticed him dressed up to the nines. He wore his white shirt with vertical stripes like he owned the school with it; the black intricate broach instead of a tie highlighted his dark eyebrows, and unbuttoned jacket which white slowly transcended to grey and then black of his pants looked so designer Ajay wanted to _tou_ -  
  
“Yeah, well, that’s because I wasn’t at the dance,” he answered quietly and almost bore a hole in Medus’ broach, unconsciously avoiding to look at his face altogether. “That’s quite the suite. You clean up nicely.”  
  
Medus’ brows furrowed slightly, almost invisibly so, as he repeated the phrase soundlessly, articulating only with his mouth. Ajay’s eyes flickered to follow its movement; he didn’t manage to regret the notion; Medus shifted his weight to another leg with a distinctive _click_.  
  
All froze. Even the beat from the dance room died down. Medus gulped forcefully and noticed Ajay’s eyes following his neck. “So, um,” Ajay almost rolled his eyes trying to control his goddamn traitorous eyeballs. “Why exactly were you vibing to Friend like me? Do you like Will Smith this much? You nearly swept me off my feet with these moves.” He smirked good-naturedly.  
  
Medus all but exploded into broken laughter at the question. Ajay saw dimples on his cheeks and heard this weird low-pitched creak of his actor’s voice, while he positively bent down from laughter, and everything, everything felt so right.  
  
“Yeah, s-sorry,” he wheezed hoarsely. “I came up with the dance routine for this at the dance, and it kinda stuck. Did you enjoy it? I called it _Tiktok Legend_.”  
  
Now it was time for Ajay to relieve his suppressed tension as he laughed, no, barked, instinctively stepping one step closer to his favourite person. Medus did the same, outstretching his hand right on Ajay’s shoulder. His smile could light up the whole world, replace the sun if needed, serve as a power source, stop the cruelty and aggression of the people at the simple realisation that heels made him one height with Ajay. Medus squeezed his shoulder gently, applying a little bit of pressure as his thumb caressed Ajay’s collarbone, to the point of massaging it, through his clothes.  
  
“Would you like to be my partner for the remainder of the homecoming? Even you deserve a night-off sometimes, right?”  
  
  
***  
  
  
They entered a gym, and the mix of wild colours felt like a punch in the gut. Hundreds of balloons of yellow, green, red, white, blue, of strikingly divers forms, all of it stopped making any sense around the disco ball that shaped the reality into a blur of dizzying, looming, dirty smudge of colour. Ajay took a step back instinctively only to somehow dig his fingers into Medus’ forearm for the support he wouldn’t care to admit he needed. Medus looked amused for only a second before gently freeing Ajay’s iron grip from himself, one finger after another, and taking his rigid palm in his own, slowly, almost as if he was afraid of spooking him. Ajay felt an all too powerful wave of goosebumps threatening to suffocate him and winced from the touch yet never releasing the hold on Medus’ palm completely.  
  
“Hey, hey,” it was impossible to hear any word spoken in the boom of the crowd and country music, and yet Ajay could read _his_ lips and hear _his_ voice, full of affection and care, above all else. “Are you alright?”  
  
This seemed to wake Ajay from his daze. He stood straighter somehow now, with one free hand pulling on the edge of his jacket forcibly, almost as if trying to hide himself in it. Still in a daze, he looked at Medus’ white curls; they always had this practiced, unruly edge to them, yet today Ajay could see so clearly under the wild light that Medus tried to use hair gel to tame them. Tried to impress someone without looking like it. His usually blond hair suddenly became a canvas of a postmodern artist with a funny idea in mind that the masterpiece can be created only if all the colours in the world spill on it. And he would be so right. So right because Medus was the _masterpiece_ himself.  
  
“I-I was blinded for a second,” Ajay uttered looking Medus’ straight in the eyes, hand on the jacket relaxing, another grasping Medus’ fingers a touch more firmly. “By the colours.”  
  
“What?” Medus screamed through all the noise and cheering, and Ajay felt his throat tighten in agony. Of course he wouldn’t hear, wouldn’t get it. In the end, he, himself, never understood the meaning behind a postmodern painting; how could he ever understand Medus? How could he ever ask Medus to understand _him_?  
  
Medus didn’t seem to notice Ajay’s horrific inner struggle and swung their joined hands towards the dancing crowd; the majority was doing the same moves Medus self-proclaimed as _Tiktok Legend_. It looked so weird, and the clicking sounds were so obnoxious Ajay couldn’t help but laugh heartily, shaking his head a strong “no”. _However could he not notice such a wild commotion before_?  
  
Ajay directed his eyes towards Medus’ face yet again. There was something in his favourite actor that drew Ajay to him with such magnetic force he couldn’t look away for more than a minute, even if he wanted so hard to hide it. It felt as if a plant tried to deny the presence of the Sun, trying to rely solely on good soil and fertilisers. The useless effort died whenever Ajay looked in Medus’ eyes of warm bronze, of molten sun.  
  
The music changed fluidly to a slow song, and suddenly Medus’ whole persona changed; his eyes darted away from Ajay’s, he squeezed Ajay’s palm by pure instinct, and his shoulder twitched oddly. He didn’t expect a slow song? _What’s the reaction_?  
  
“Uh... would you like to...?” Ajay recognized the stuttering. This was Medus being his endearing awkward self, and Ajay felt the world gone, all the irritating colours vanished, with only one exception. He noticed Medus’ cheeks tinted an adorable shade of pink which contrasted so much with his proper suit and professionally done curls.  
  
“Would I like what?” Ajay smiled so hard his cheeks started hurting a bit, and yet he couldn’t help but tease Medus a tiny bit. Medus couldn’t back away now, and that realisation seemed to give him more mental strength. He stretched his shoulder and turned fully to Ajay.  
  
“You know, dance with me.” That was so peculiar to Ajay how Medus was such a great actor on the stage, incorporating all the character’s qualities in such a way that it was impossible not to stare at him in awe, not to believe in him. He was the Prince incarnate, all the devotion of a dedicated leader, all the grace in his footsteps, all the love and adoration in his eyes when he looked at Rory. And yet, Ajay hardly could picture the same Prince Abraham in his Medus right now; his Prince under a disco ball looked lost, wanted to seem smaller, and he shrank like a spring, his shoulders now not broaden proudly, but squeezed closer to his chest and neck.  
  
Had he always been this anxious around Ajay? Had Ajay simply never noticed a longing, aching question in Medus’ eyes before?  
  
“That is the point of the dance, right?” Ajay allowed himself to slip a bit more warmth into a smile. Ajay rarely smiled and never quite this reassuringly, this openly, this vulnerably. “To actually dance. Follow my lead.”  
  
If Medus wanted to object, he never showed it, allowing his date – he would never say such a word out loud – to pull his hand towards the many couples on the dance floor. “Allowed” is a strong word; Ajay thought for a second that Medus forgot his surroundings as he tried to process the meaning behind his agreement and tried to “follow Ajay’s lead” almost by instinct. He dipped awkwardly as Ajay pulled his body towards him, took a step, his eyes still glassy, out of the situation, and stumbled, catching one foot with another. A look of disbelief flashed across Ajay’s features; one more step and Medus’ head would have collided violently with Ajay’s torso, but he managed to find his footing just in time. If Medus was embarrassed before, now he probably wanted to fall into the Earth and turn up on the Moon where there would be no annoyingly handsome Ajays who would scrutinize every flick of his hand and watch him trip over his feet, judgement in their stare.  
  
Ajay could never perceive Medus in an accusing manner. Instead, he steadied him with a gentle hand on a shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. Medus looked in his eyes, wanting to read in them something other than mocking superiority. He saw the gentlest of brown, eyes squinted slightly, radiating nothing but raw adoration. He didn’t catch up to the thought that Ajay was fawning upon him being an awkward mess as Ajay strikingly fast blocked the emotion, and, in a blink, they were among “sickeningly sweet couples” (Skye would probably call them that and everyone around them).  
  
Ajay placed his hand on Medus’ waist and raised their still linked hands higher. Medus put his other hand on Ajay’s shoulder tentatively, bending the ankle at a lower angle. He tried to explain to himself why everything was floating around him, why Medus’ waist and his hands almost burned him to singes, why he could not see anything besides the Prince in front of him. He ascertained quickly that glasses were still on his nose, he wasn’t having a panic attack, they weren’t actually on fire, and pushed the thought to the deepest corner of his mind to contemplate later. He took the first step.  
  
That didn’t go as planned. It rarely went according to plan with Medus. Ajay tried to lead him into a practiced box step only to crush into him, chest to chest, one leg between his but not quite touching either. Medus was, ironically, frozen, dread dancing in his golden eyes, body bent slightly backwards under Ajay’s weight; he looked like a cat with its eyes wide open, waiting helplessly to be crushed by a screeching car. He hardly registered anything but Ajay’s firm touch and sheer closeness of their eyes, noses, lips. The crush was inevitable, and, yet, it never came. Ajay could never believe he would hate someone’s shoes only because they had heels, but here he was, in panic forgetting how to breathe, startled that Medus’ face was so disturbingly close to his. He vividly remembered Medus being startlingly shorter than him, why, what, why the universe should want to test him?  
  
He quickly collected himself, taking a step back a touch too fast to seem smooth.  
  
“Not a big dancer?” Ajay asked, tiredness swimming in his gaze. _Disappointment_?  
  
“I’d be happy to learn from the apparent master.” Medus’ retorted almost sassily, his expression effortlessly neutral, carefully guarded against any unwanted emotions.  
  
Ajay grinned in amusement, his guiding voice fading into a soft murmur. Medus was quick to catch on to the steps, and now there was no queer awkwardness, only the calming, slow swaying of their jackets behind their backs, one white, the other beige. Medus asked his favourite director a million and a half questions, complimented him subtly a thousand times, feeling increasingly at ease around him: _you ever thought about choreography? have you been to any other school dances? you could have asked me to come with? as friends, naturally, jeez. I pictured you more of Keanu than a Swayze_.  
  
The time slowed down for just the two of them, a gracious present of the universe. The song was supposed to last three minutes, but it went on and on, almost as if someone accidentally pressed a repeat. Amidst the conversation Ajay sneakily (he wished) admired Medus’ features. A careful curve of cheekbones, lips parted and closed rhythmically as he spoke cheerfully, eyes glistening a gentle mosaic of colours and shapes under a disco ball. A lock of blond hair stood out under his left brow, not so properly coiffed, swaying along with their steps. Entranced, Ajay lifted his hand from Medus’ waist, his words now an incomprehensible but tender murmur in Ajay’s ears, barely grazed his shoulder with a side of his hand and took a lock between his fingers, brushing soft fingers on Medus’ temple, tucking the delicate lock behind Medus’ ear, touching its curve light-heartedly. _Could a guy have such soft hair?_

Medus’ eyes trailed the movement of Ajay’s fingers as if magnetized, and neither of them noticed that the song stopped, along with their feet. It didn’t matter. Ajay chuckled under his breath, eyes half-lidded, placing his palm back on Medus’ waist, unconsciously pulling him closer, a plan in mind.  
  
“Would you like to try something more...” he stuttered as he registered the sudden closeness of their bodies and inhaled sharply. So much for staying away from a hopeless crush. “Advanced?” Medus regarded him with an enormous question in his eyes, blinking three times a second, unlinking their glued hands, and taking an invisible step back, obviously more aware of his surroundings.  
  
 _Oh. That probably sounded like an innuendo. Oh._  
  
“I mean, I know a couple of dance moves you might like.” He wasn’t saying that to impress him. He never did and never will. Naturally.  
  
Medus shifted his weight on another leg, scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed all of a sudden, and with a palm that never left Ajay’s shoulder guided him softly into a secluded corner without a crowd going wild around them. That’s when it struck Ajay; the song has ended. His private time had to come to a stop and, yet, he still lingered obnoxiously, stealing Medus’ time with his friends and, probably, a date. He should just run away right now and never get close to him ever-  
  
“Of course. I figured you’d know some cool stuff.”  
  
Again. What?  
  
Ajay lost the sense of direction, place, and time, and his mind, filled with thoughts of an immediate retreat, collided in confusion with Medus’ painfully honest words. Praising words.  
  
“I thought you’d be uncomfortable,” Medus rolled on his toes a couple of times, acknowledging Ajay’s confusion and deliberately avoiding his stare. “’Cause people might think that we’re ah.” He bit his lower lip. “Together. Would suck, you don’t date actors ‘n staff.” He spread his arms languidly to indicate that this was his reasoning for leading Ajay further from the crowd.  
  
“Wow, look at him worrying about my reputation.” Ajay laughed bitterly and stood straighter, outstretching one of his arms towards Medus, giving him space. In retort, the danceless Sun raised his eyebrow in question but tried to copy the same pose, their fingers only slightly brushing; they couldn’t for the world stop touching each other at least lightly. Medus could swear he saw a shadow of a smile under the blinding lights on Ajay’s face, but it could be that his imagination played with him mercilessly as if he tried to see a desirable image in the clouds. Fun to imagine but too fleeting to be real.  
  
“Take my hand.” Ajay only mouthed, and Medus’ corrupted by Disney mind was instantly reconstructing the continuation to the phrase. Won’t you take a poor sinner’s hand? Why exactly did all of this feel like a deal with the devil? Nonetheless, he took it, silently admitting to himself that if the devil wore Ajay’s face, he still would have taken it without a blink. Ajay’s warm, slightly sweaty hand enveloped Medus’, and he smelled pancakes from his parents, felt the fluff of his doggo, and saw the welcoming lights of his house all at once, all of a sudden. He felt at home.  
  
“Now,” Ajay paused dramatically, rolling his eyes, a flicker of a movement. A sign of... Irritation? Pleasure? Impatience? He had always been so hard to read. Medus could never tell. “Spin to me.” A wild rush of goosebumps trailed Medus’ body as he envisioned the pose that the spinning would lead to. Still, it would be so easy to succumb to this directorial voice, imagine that this is a play, that they’re both co-leads and just... _roll_ with it.  
  
He shifted his weight on another leg, bracing himself, thinking how queer these theatrics must look like to other people. He could already see the question in Natalie’s eyes, “Are you guys a thing?” Why doesn’t Ajay care? Isn’t he afraid of unnecessary drama?  
  
Ajay observed Medus’ stillness motionlessly, wordlessly. There was no denying his constrained shifting, his shy, almost panicked eyes looking everywhere, at any person in the room but Ajay, his irregular breathing as he tried to make it staggered as if he was a singer in a choir trying to breathe sneakily. Ajay interpreted. He let go completely for the first time since they stepped into the dance floor.  
  
And caught Medus off-guard, his outstretched hand still left hanging in the air. Medus didn’t understand, flexing his fingers in an unintelligible attempt to grasp the thread that grounded him, made him feel... he could not name the emotion right away. It felt as if one could walk with their watch on a wrist for years for this watch only to be snatched away in the dark; it felt as if one was living all their life under the sun only to die in the devastatingly cold north of Alaska. Medus’ brain short-circuited; the disconnection was tangible. Before he grabbed Ajay’s hand in desperation, Ajay registered sheer confusion and hurt in Medus’ eyes like he was stabbed, like he couldn’t even process that he’s dying and dying by Ajay’s hand that he let fall away from Medus’.  
  
Medus clasped Ajay’s hand in return, locking them in a tight grasp and throwing away the key, fierce determination painted on his face, eyes staring furiously at Ajay’s. Neither of them managed to utter a word, blink even once; Medus spun.  
  
So awkwardly, so sloppily, so tactlessly, so out of practice putting one foot in front of the other, Medus saw only the dizzying lights, a slap of colours on his face. He tried to blink them away and, with eyes still tightly closed, slammed into Ajay chest to chest almost painfully. All breath stolen from him in a collision, he exhaled forcibly only to further inhale a whiff of Ajay’s cologne. Medus felt faint like one would feel after passing out; somehow it got even worse when he acknowledged Ajay’s hand on his waist pressed crushingly tight. Before opening his eyes from a daze, Medus found the sheer fact of Ajay catching and holding his other hand on autopilot soothing, even if the whole position they were in was so awkward.  
  
The eyes of warm brown stared at his own, unblinking, mere three inches away.  
  
 _Oh wow. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Ajay’s probably so, so, so annoyed that his “teachings”, his plans didn’t work out._  
  
The thought must have flashed on Medus’ face, and his eyes would be remarkably easy to read from so close; Ajay whispered seemingly nonchalantly, answering the awkwardness in Medus’ gaze, his one hand never even twitching on Medus’ waist.  
  
“I’d say you’ll need a bit more practice before you start showing off. Unless you,” he staggered, for the first time his eyes flickered from the suns of Medus’ eyes to his lips and then, almost immediately, away, to stare intensely at his actor’s shoulder instead, “wanted us in this compromising situation. Of course. This wouldn’t be...”  
  
Medus caught the exact moment Ajay started babbling. About the rules, their position, the same words he heard a thousand times, over and over again, god, Ajay, come up with different sentence structures for a change. It gave Medus an opening to admire Ajay’s lips, giving them his undivided attention. His lower lip seemed rougher than an upper one, plusher; it was to be expected. After all, Ajay bit it with force if stress overwhelmed him. The creases from teeth created a work of art on his lip, almost as if a tiny fairy kissed him, leaving the flecks of dust from her wings behind. Medus marvelled, and his face contorted as he felt those painful butterflies like a disease in his stomach and a lower part of his chest. He didn’t think when he tilted his head and moved his neck onward and closed his eyes and squeezed Ajay’s hand and-  
  
Ajay stopped talking.  
  
His very first thought was that he severely misjudged Medus. For a person who never held hands with anyone romantically he was being bold, and somehow it felt so right. Before the world grew faint and static, he had had a brief millisecond to register Medus’ hand untangle from his on his waist and redirecting it on the small of Ajay’s back for... _What_?  
  
The world spun violently, and Ajay shrank, forcibly pushed on his back. His heart dislocated from the middle of his chest, falling with him, down, down, lower, only for Ajay’s body to connect with... To float in the air, while bending backwards? He gasped in vivid panic, eyes larger than moons in their full bloom. He tried to quickly ascertain the confusing situation only for his thoughts to fly out of his head like a pierced balloon out of a room when the sole thing he saw were Medus’ eyes above him. Ajay’s mind logged off for a second to check if he’s conscious by the only means he came up with: pinch something. Hard. He squeezed his hands and, to his astonishment, heard Medus mewl in pain.  
  
“Why are you gripping me like this?” Medus hissed indignantly.  
  
It clicked in Ajay’s head like a light bulb in cartoons.  
  
“Why are you dipping me?” It was supposed to come across as angry, assertive, probably irritated. Instead, he heard his words in a hushed, admiring whisper. It was worth it for the smile of the Sun God dawned upon him in response.  
  
“I’m showing off my dance skills.”  
  
Ajay hardened his grip on Medus’ back, shifting his weight to stand more steadily on his own two feet. He wanted to regain control over the situation as soon as possible. His chest, however, twisted in knots the meaning behind which he didn’t have any sound mind to decipher as he looked, really looked into Medus’ eyes above him twinkling in delight and unconcealed adoration. Medus picked on Ajay’s body language and righted him with staggering gentleness.  
  
Standing perfectly straight, Ajay tore one of his hands harshly from Medus’ body to unconsciously hide the lower part of his face in a rush. His cheeks started heating, and, judging by Medus’ grin, this sly fox still managed to catch a reddish hue on Ajay’s dark skin.  
  
“Didn’t expect that,” Ajay mumbled. _How embarrassing_. “So you’re not such an incompetent dancer after all.”  
  
They stood there for a moment, at the edge of the dance floor, music and the whole world forgotten around them, when Medus twined their fingers together, a smile on his face that screamed v-i-c-t-o-r-y. An erratic thought appeared in Ajay’s mind before fully forming into words, before fading from existence altogether.  
  
“I’ll take that as a compliment?” he drawled questioningly with _that_ infuriating smile on his face.  
  
Out of absolutely nowhere, a curse that ruins the serenity of people's once perfect life, they heard a shocked half-shriek half-gasp that sounded terrifyingly similar to Natalie. Ajay saw a rapid shift of Medus’ eyes to a circle of their approaching troupe and Skye who seemed twitchy and extremely, uncharacteristically apologetic as she did a gesture of cutting her throat with a palm.  
  
“Sorry...” Ajay had heard Medus murmur miserably as their hands lost the warmth of each other’s touch for good, and Medus cut the connection between their eyes forcibly. Ajay winced involuntarily, because of the sudden humiliation or a freezing distance between Medus and him, he would not dare to ponder the exact reason.  
  
Embarrassing questions, the next worse than the last, followed at a swift pace. It almost seemed that all of them were rehearsing a play again, what, with the way Ajay felt like he was watching a horror movie unfold about him, but not exactly with him.  
  
 _Ajay, how’d you end up here? Wow, were you dancing together? Wait, are you guys a thing? Right, right, but, if Medus wasn’t in the play_...  
  
It was easy to swat them all like flies. Which is to say, not easy at all. Natalie kept on being curious and insinuating something; Rory laughing with her giggles reminiscent of fire cracking in the dark forest, a safe harbour, deep secrets told around it on the coldest of nights. Skye crept closer to Medus to lead him a bit further from the commotion as it died down, her eyes strained, her posture shifting now and then visibly. She seemed heavily uncomfortable in a new dress but cared too much for her friend to be watching the drama from a dark corner.  
  
The party went down peacefully after that, stable, full of laughter and silly little dances like _Tiktok Legend_. Ajay was feeling on the back of his neck the entire time, but every time he turned the catch his stare, Medus was happily chatting with Skye, being led away to the dance floor by Arin (they did come to the dance together, right?), just being all around his attractive to everyone endearing self.  
  
When Ajay felt a sharp jab of uneasiness that comes from being too long in a crowd, he decisively closed the distance between him and Medus, swarmed with people, like always. He put a hand on Medus’ shoulder to nearly topple over by his eyes finally meeting Ajay’s again.  
  
 _Get a grip already_!  
  
He knew it polite to announce his leaving to a person who invited him to an event; he also understood the politeness behind Medus’ offer to guide Ajay back to his car, although it seemed a bit excessive. It was still so blatantly easy to accept anything Medus suggested.  
  
The way back was awkward. Medus’ heels clicked loudly on the school’s parquet, the only sound in the semi-lit hallways, abandoned by everyone. For some reason, Medus took a longer route for the parking lot, his figure drifting in the shadows, getting closer to Ajay and then suddenly slowing down the pace, his breathing still a bit laboured from energetic dancing.  
  
Ajay suspected that Medus may have wanted to talk, but not a single word was exchanged between the two before they finally stepped outside. It was easier to breathe here, so Ajay muttered:  
  
“Thank you. I think I needed to cut loose more than I realised.”  
  
Medus slowed down the step yet again, and Ajay had to adjust, deliberately brushing their shoulders to remind him that he’s not alone. Medus tensed but, surprisingly, did not drift away, inhaling the smells of the night.  
  
“Maybe we could do this again sometime.” He whispered.  
  
“You do have a knack for taking me out of my comfort zone.” Ajay found the whole talk strangely intimate, lowering his voice and staring at Medus’ profile, trying to unriddle him to no avail.  
  
“Wow, what’s that.” Medus laughed the gentlest of sounds. “A genuine, not back-handed compliment!”  
  
Ajay rolled his eyes good-naturedly and turned face to face to Medus when they neared his car.  
  
“Don’t let it get to your head.” A whisper still, a promise of words untold. “See you.”  
  
No one moved. For ten (Ajay counted) painful seconds they stood there awkwardly before Medus opened his arm wide hesitantly. Why, the tension was so uncomfortable it would be rude not to accept. And Ajay did accept Medus’ warm arms, almost falling into their familiar comfort.  
  
Medus hugged him a long good-bye. Longer than a socially accepted hug between an actor and his director, even between good friends is supposed to last. Ajay tensed for a few seconds before linking his hands behind Medus’ back and lining his forehead with Medus’ shoulder. He lost the meaning behind the concept of time; it tended to occur quite often with Medus around, but this time was different. Ajay could as well melt into Medus’ embrace and be thankful that his Sun made him bodiless, free of worry on Earth. The ringing laugh from the school’s general direction felt like a slap of the universe to wake Ajay up. He let go. Completely this time. Medus, however... Not really. He stood there, his hands still on Ajay’s shoulders, a question in his eyes.  
  
 _He doesn’t want me to go_.  
  
“Can I kiss you?”  
  
This was too much. This sentence repeated over and over in Ajay’s head, all of his instincts screaming at him to _run_.  
  
“Excuse me?” Ajay nearly coughed every syllable of the question in bewilderment. “Haven’t I told you that we can-“  
  
“Of course, that’s not what I meant!” Medus interrupted on a verge of hysteria. “Not a romantic gesture, no way!”  
  
Wow. Why did it sting Ajay’s heart right then?  
  
“I meant as a good-bye. I’m trying to understand... French cultural habits for a project and, well, if I want to perfect my understanding, I mean, I’ve gotta ask people, consent is important! You’ll be my first try since you’re so knowledgeable and smart and you have glasses! And-“ He jabbered uncontrollably, and Ajay stopped him with a hand on Medus’ chest.  
  
“Break! You can ask me for anything, Medus. I’m not sure, though, that I’ll be a fine learning partner in French bisous. Nonetheless, would you like to try a version with two or three bi-?”  
  
“Oh no, one is perfectly fine!” Even if Medus wanted to cover his face to hide his crimson blush, his hands were glued to Ajay’s shoulders; Ajay didn’t even manage to register the sudden change in the atmosphere as Medus leaned in and pressed his lips to Ajay’s cheek for a miserable second and, in a flash, almost jumped away solid three feet away from him, taking his hands with him.  
  
“What!” The whole situation seemed so ridiculous Ajay’s voice rose a pitch higher. “Aren’t you supposed to know that the French kiss the _air_? And I’m supposed to kiss you back!” “  
  
I’ll see you soon, Ajay!” Medus screamed already at the entrance of the school, violently slamming the door open and disappearing from view altogether.  
  
Ajay blinked for a long minute, the picture of utter incomprehension, and closed his eyes with a painfully silent facepalm.  
  
“What’s his deal?” he hissed in annoyance. “He already kissed me on the cheek when we played billiard, that’s nothing significant if that’s what he wanted!”  
  
Except that it was. Ajay understood that perfectly when he stumbled on his feet a good number of five times while going back to his car.  
  
 _I’m supposed to kiss you back... Oh my god... I didn’t actually say that, right? No, I didn’t, not out loud._  
  
He shut the door, fastened a seatbelt, and drove away hastily, carelessly with wheels screeching from the speed. Ajay tried to think of nice, stable things in life, but the vivid pictures of Medus’ awkwardness, sweetness, his smiles of untainted blinding light, and eyes of the molten sun still threatened to engulf him and cause the stupidest car crash ever. His cheek burned in the place where Medus kissed him lightly, like a searing pain from a healing cutting wound. Ajay closed his eyes for a second, firmly denying himself dreams about Medus’ small kiss leaving a scar shaped exactly like his lips. This wouldn’t happen, this shouldn’t happen, and _these musings shouldn’t be happening_!  
  
Thanks to them, however, Ajay finally managed to catch the fleeting thought he suppressed while Medus stared at him on the dance floor with that victorious smile plastered across his face.  
  
Ajay would let Medus win. Time and time again.

**Author's Note:**

> The protagonist's name is Medus; in Latvian, it is 'honey' (in my headcanon twins' parents loved their kids to an extreme).


End file.
